Phasmophobia
by Kudou Ran
Summary: (AU; rating to be safe) What if Ran and Shinichi had never been childhood friends? What if Shinichi had died at a young age, but was destined to meet Ran anyway?
1. Of Dust and Blue Eyed Boys

Disclaimer: I do not own Meitantei Conan, no matter how much I wish I did. At the moment, I can't even lay claim to myself, as it seems to be a high school trend to choose someone and decide you supposedly 'own' them. Anyone willing to help me save up to buy myself back from the five who 'own' me?

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Dictionary: 

Mouri Ran- Rachel to those who favor the English version.

Kudou Shinichi- Jimmy to those who favor the English version.

Meitantei- Great detective.

Mou- Gosh. (In the way that I'm using it, anyway)

Takku- Geez.

Kikimashita- To have heard. In the way that I'm using it here, it's almost like, "You have heard me."

Okashii- Crazy, weird, odd.

Kimi- You.

Dake- Only.

Baka- Stupid or idiot.

Baaro- Stupid or idiot. Shinichi _really_ seems to like this word.

Oujochan- A more affectionate way to say 'girl.'

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Author's Note: Because of major writer's block on my other story, I've decided to temporarily take it down and work on this one first. Don't worry; by no means am I abandoning it. Anyway, enjoy!

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Chapter One:  
Of Dust and Blue-eyed Boys

The martial artist brushed her fingers against the cold metal of the doorknob that hadn't been touched in years, a shiver running down her spine as the autumn wind spurred her on. The rest of the world seemed insignificant compared to the deep scratches that were carved into the beautiful wood of the door, scarring it and telling the story of a deadly struggle. Clouds gathered overhead as her hand tightened against the doorknob, perhaps mourning the occurrence of five years previous--but she couldn't back down now. "There are no such things as ghosts," the blue-eyed girl murmured, cringing as she pushed the door open with a loud squeak. Her breath caught in her throat as she prepared herself for the worst and found-- 

It was a world covered in dust. All of the poltergeists she had been preparing herself to find were absent; all of the angry spirits she was expecting to jump out at her and claim her soul were nowhere in sight. "Mou.." Instead, an odd sense of contentness--of peace--filled her. "See? No such thing as ghosts." Books, toys, papers, clothes, a pair of glasses--everything was as she sure it must have been before the Kudou family's lives had been taken. No one had dared to touch any of their possessions and after the waves of whispers and rumors had died, almost all memories of them had dissipated. Though famous, they'd never had the chance to draw close enough to any personal contacts to leave a lasting impression.

Mouri Ran's eyes fluttered closed as she allowed herself to slip six years into the past. When Beika's police force had first learned of the deaths of the three Kudous, they'd done their best to smother the rumors before they began--and failed horribly. Little time passed before the story of the brutal murder of Beika's most loved family was all over my face, radio, and then television. Twelve year old Shinichi, a rising detective, had been found bathing in his own blood alone; world renowned actress Yukiko had been found with her husband. The case had never been solved, and the memory of the Kudou family had been tainted in their absence. Countless had decided that like other famous families who had met tragic ends in the past, they had been involved in illegal practices, and their deaths a consequence of that.

She wasn't one of the countless.

Forcing herself back into a world of reality, the young woman released a heavyhearted sigh. While she would have loved to continue musings through the history of this shunned home, she was supposed to be cleaning it so that one last picture could be taken of it before its demise. Beika was an ever-growing city, meaning there was a constant demand for homes. Since none sought to live in the Kudou home, it was it now.Demolition was set to commence in a month's time and all traces of the Kudou family having lived in Beika would finally be gone. It was for that reason that she'd taken this job--so that perhaps she might say goodbye to the one that she'd never met before but had always felt a connection to.

Kudou Shinichi.

Ran stepped further into the house she should already have begun cleaning, instantly drawn to a broken picture frame that rested upon a dust-covered table. She drew her fingers over the remnants of the glass in order to dispel the particles that remained, obscuring her vision of the picture that awaited her scrutinizing gaze--and gasped quietly. The warm smile and dancing eyes that met her own belonged to the one she'd been seeking, and caused her stomach to tumble uneasily. Even at twelve, he looked so mature, so responsible--but the cockiness he was so well known for glimmered across his young features as well. "Kawaii," the young woman breathed, finding it easy to predict how his presence must have blended with his parents' and created an abundance of energy that must have once filled this house with so much life.

Suddenly it struck her--the date was May fourth. She had come across countless bits of information when the Kudou family had been murdered, as t was impossible to escape considering her father had been one of the detectives on the case. She had found his favorite food was lemon pie, he was remarkably skilled at soccer, and that the great Kudou Shinichi's birthday was the fourth of May. Irony had laid claim to another aspect of the famous family's being, as their chapter in Beika was finally to be closed on the most unexpected of days. "At least your house will be clean again," she breathed, brushing her fingers over the faded photo once more. A melancholy smile had found Ran's lips. "Happy birthday, Shinichi. This would make you seventeen like me, right?"

"Takku. Some happy birthday _this_ is."

The martial artist whirled around immediately, heart thundering in the confines of her chest. It was silly to think that she'd heard anyone else speak, for she was the only one there--she'd specifically requested to be left alone so that she might have the chance to be lost in the memories that lingered. "Hello?" All the same, she was sure that the male's voice that had carried through the large house was not simply a figment of her imagination, but instead a true voice that sent shivers down her spine. It was deep, and the tone itself dripped with grudge, and perhaps a bit of boredom. Drawing her arms unconsciously about her own form--but never releasing the photo--the young woman tried again to catch the attention of the unknown voice. "If you're hiding, this is funny." The silence that had once held a melancholy feel was now charged with something else, something thicker—and she was sure she'd choke on it soon. "Please?"

"Happy birthday.. To me. Happy Birthday.. To me."

Again the martial artist whirled around, her breath catching in her throat as her arms tightened about her form. A second occurrence was something she couldn't ignore. "Happy.. Birthday?" As soon as the words dripped from her lips, her eyes widened and realization dawned upon the fumbling young woman. Swallowing the lump that had begun to grow in her throat--and pushing aside the thoughts that urged her to reconsider and reevaluate the situation--she took a few more steps into the home. "Birthday.. Mou.. Kudousan, if you can hear me, give me a sign." As if playing the part it was assigned in some horror movie, a lamp came crashing to the ground, and the light bulb that it had been formerly protecting shattered into thousands of pieces that glittered before resigning to their fate. Giving a cry of surprise, she released the photo of the small child that she'd been holding, wincing as it cut through her pale skin and crimson drops fell, pooling upon the layers of dust. "Shin.. Shinichisan?"

Run. Her mind told her to _run_.

"Kikimashita. Okashii.."

Run. Now it was time to run _fast_.

"Okashii..?"

But she was stuck. Frozen.

"Kimi dake." Without warning, a young man stepped out of the hallway he'd been sheltered in. His blue eyes delved deep into her soul, working too quickly and too efficiently for her to protest. Though pale--hardly for the same reason as she was--the moment he stepped into the sunlight that the broken window had decided to cast upon him, the young man seemed to come to life. The smirk that eagerly dominated his lips mirrored the same look he'd sported in the photograph, and the confidence he displayed as he moved towards her caused the young woman to unconsciously hold her breath. This was him; the one reaching out and taking her hand in his own to inspect it had been lost all those years ago, and yet here he was, as real as one could supposedly be. "Only you can hear me," he explained, drawing his gaze from her newest wound to her eyes, his shoulders rising and falling in a nonchalant shrug. "So far, anyway."

"B-But you're.."

"Takku. You really managed to cut yourself deep, didn't you?"

She was sure that he could hear the thundering of her heart, for it was all too apparent for the young woman who could do nothing more than gawk at the boy who seemed to be drawing amusement from the situation. His eyes glimmered, taunting her--but for the first time in her life Ran couldn't find the words that would effectively put her opponent's smugness to rest. Instead she shook her head, withdrawing her hand from his grasp and casting her glaze elsewhere. "Baka." Though she could be commended for her efforts, the bout of feigned chuckles that fell from her dry lips lacked the ability to convince herself, let alone the son of a once well-known actress. "Baka baka baka. You're still asleep; you never woke up and now you're going to be late when you really _do_ wake up." As the martial artist chided herself, willing the essence of her words to mix smoothly with reality so that things might be altered and she might have a real explanation for her experience, the blue-eyed boy enjoyed a true laugh--and was promptly tossed a glare.

"Is this funny to you?"

"Maybe."

"I'm trapped in a nightmare and you're laughing at me?"

The long deceased meitantei caught her by surprise again, snatching the young woman's wrist and locking his eyes with hers. The smugness that had thrived but moments ago had retreated hesitantly, giving way to a new emotion that mixed within the endless blue of his eyes--hurt? It mixed beautifully--subtly--so that anyone who glanced upon the meitantei might overlook it, but Ran didn't. "Is it really that bad?" His voice was nothing more than a whisper that echoed through the empty halls, attacked instantly and smothered by the particles of dust that hung in the air. "Being here, I mean." His grip upon her wrist loosened, perhaps to let her know that she was free to leave at any time; she was free to forget all that she had seen, and return home to argue that she had fallen ill and couldn't finish cleaning. The same action also reminded her of a flower as it withered and died; as it lost home in clinging to the short life it was promised and was forgotten. _He_ would be forgotten.

"You must have been so lonely.."

"_Baaro_. I wasn't lonely."

Pause.

"I thought ghosts couldn't touch anyone or anything.."

"Well, it seems like I can touch you."

"I knew that, baka.."

".. Afraid of ghosts?"

"N-No!"

"Boo."

The last thing the young woman could witness was the smirk that once more played across the meitantei's lips as the corners of her vision became fuzzy. Silently she wondered if it had been a mistake to allow the smugness to sneak back to reign once more, pretending as if it had never fled; if it had been a mistake not to run when she'd had the chance. Deciding that the past was something she couldn't change, and thus wasn't worth dwelling on, she finally relinquished her control to the panic and the many butterflies that had been dancing through her stomach from the moment her fingers had brushed against the metal of the door. Another wave of calmness washed over Mouri Ran as unconsciousness cradled her, promising to shield her until she opened her eyes again. Kudou Shinichi was left to move hastily, gathering the young woman in his arms before she could fall to the ground. He sighed, brushing a few strands from his newest companion's face as her breathing evened. Had this been a mistake? There was no reasonable explanation as to why _she_ could see him when no one else could, why he could touch her, why--

"Sweet dreams, oujochan."


	2. Author's Note

Author's Note:

I was amazed at how many reviews my newest story had received, and touched by all the sweet things that all of you had to say. I know it's silly, but I almost feel connected to a lot of you. I regret to say that this chapter is taking me a little while longer to write. Recently one of my friends had something horrible happen to him. His father shot his mother, and then turned the gun on himself. I'm doing my best to try to reach out to him so that he doesn't feel alone.. If you could forgive me, I'd really appreciate it. I'm more than halfway done in writing this chapter, and it shouldn't take that much longer. I apologize for the delay, and thank each and every one of you for your understanding.


	3. Feelings: What Ghosts Loath

A/N: No really complicated Japanese this time, I don't think. :3 If there is, though, be sure to tell me. Ah, and don't feel the urge to be nice about it. Trust me, I've been airheaded a lot lately. What with it being the week for finals, I've been cramming, and so that's why this chapter happened to take so long. Though it's not as interesting as I would have liked to make it, I had to give Shinichi time to adjust to all that's happening around him, and get a sense of being with another after so long. After all, it wouldn't be believable if suddenly his passionate feelings were all directed towards her, and he hardly knew her. Also, this chapter also reflects a little of the angst that we all know resides within him. Anyway, this chapter is dedicated to all of you, 'cause you've all made me feel all special. Honestly. You have no idea how happy you've made me--but my mom does, and currently just finished berating me for dancing around the kitchen, singing about my wonderful reviewers. She knows it won't stop me from doing so again, but she likes to pretend.

Amaya Hanyou: Aww! Thank you! It's a bit of irony, really, since Ran is scared of ghosts.  
Fyliwion: I hope this chapter was just as interesting! And thank you! Sorry it took so long. Exam week, and so I've been cramming!  
Laura: Thank you! I promise to update far more often now!  
Sapphirestars: Perhaps you're on to something about the heartbreaking part! But I can't tell you yet, ne? Aww, thank you! You guys are honestly too sweet.  
Kisara: Mou, I'm blushing! Thank you! While I don't believe my writing is nearly as skilled as you give it credit for, I promise to try to live up to your beautiful praise! And thank you for your patience!  
Xeno: Thank you! Glad it kept you interested!  
Chalicity: I really hope this new chapter lives up to your expectations! Thank you! Mou, I swear I'm never going to stop blushing!  
Maekochan: Aww! Thank you! The idea was just something I had to get down; one of those things that drives you crazy until you manage to get it on paper.  
Fireblazie: Yes, it's official, this blush is permanent. Thank you so much! I was striving for something different, I just didn't think so many would like it!

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The hours had passed, grasping the sun above and peeling it from the sky slowly. As the large star gave in against its captor, beautiful colors danced across the sky above--a last farewell until the ball of gas peeked over the horizon again the next day. All of this had occurred without the knowledge of Mouri Ran, as she had been lost in a deep sleep where the increments of time didn't matter, and the only thing that held any importance whatsoever was the beautiful pair of blue eyes upon her. The same could not be said for Kudou Shinichi, who had taken to pacing in his impatience. When that hadn't aided the time in passing, he'd fished through the young woman's pockets with no thought for her consent, returned to pacing, and even went so far as to shoot a few insults that she neither heard or was held accountable for defending herself from. The anxiousness that clung loosely to his form was something that he couldn't explain, but the meitantei was still a prisoner of this frustrating emotion. 

For lack of anything better to do, he began to survey the area about him--for the umpteenth time. From the chair that he'd dragged (noisily) to a resting place beside his bed, he could see the contents he'd pulled from the young woman's pockets waiting for her to save them from his floor. Her cell phone had revealed her name to him, so it wasn't treated nearly as disrespectfully, but the yen could do him no good and the key that most likely unlocked her home provided him with no amusement, as he presently had no idea where she lived. Shinichi felt much like an overgrown child, squirming as his eyes swept over the red pen he'd used to litter the receipt for groceries he'd found with kanji of the young woman's name, and of his own. He debated swinging his feet back and forth to complete the transformation, a groan falling from his lips as he tried to cage the impatience he harbored and failed horribly. How was it that he had resided her alone since the occurrence, but now that _she_ was here--

A deep sigh fell from Shinichi's lips as he turned to look down upon the young woman resting in his bed, chestnut strands framing her face and brows pinched in concern--concern for something that must have been plaguing her in her dreams. His own brows pinched, his fingers reached up--of their own accord, or so he claimed silently--to gently brush a few of the unruly strands from her facial features, the tips dancing across her forehead and vanquishing the worry that had formerly hid her peaceful features. "Baaro," the meitantei chided quietly, withdrawing before he could pull her from her deserved slumber. Even_ he_ was unsure as to whether he was berating her for her current state, for breaking in his inviolable routine, or _himself_ for_ allowing_ her to. Before he had been sentenced to a life of solitude, unable to touch or interact with anything, but now things were changing. The moment she had stepped into the house, he'd felt something shift--but this? He could touch her possessions, run his fingers through her silky hair, he could talk to her and she would talk back, he--

The sudden chords of Secret of My Heart ripped through the lengthy silence and startled the unsuspecting male, a flush settling over his cheeks as he pushed away all thoughts of the martial artist. Curiosity began to flow through his veins, reawakening the meitantei habits that had never died, even as he gasped in his last breath of air; even as his heart thundered in the confines of his chest one last time. His fingers burned with the guilt of intruding upon the sleeping girl's privacy as they wrapped themselves around the electronic, but at the same time they itched in anticipation; the incessant itch was inadmissible, engulfing his form before it had a chance to contend. A final hesitant glance was tossed towards Mouri Ran to make sure that sleep still cradled her in its competent arms, before his fingers brushed over the phone's buttons, and finally he found what he was looking for--and was met with the fate that he justly deserved.

"Ran," whined a strikingly loud and high-pitched voice. "You didn't call me to come and help like you said you would!" Shinichi blanched, pulling the phone a few inches from his ear with one hand and rubbing his other ear with his remaining hand, for he was sure it would be sentenced to endure hours of ringing before finally returning to its previous state. Whoever it was that was calling the martial artist apparently had no clue what the frequency of her voice was capable of. Though he moved to bark an annoyed response to the caller, she was quick enough to break through the first syllable of an insult and continued on. "Sure, maybe I _did_ sleep in a _little_, but that didn't mean that I didn't want to go! So, what is the old Kudou house like anyway?" Again he readied himself to answer, but again the chance was snatched from his hands--only proving to irritate the meitantei further. "Is it a scary home to ghosts or just a ball of dust like I thought it'd be?"

Finally, _finally_ she had stopped for breath. Unwilling to permanently sacrifice what dignity he might have lost to the young woman, he took his time in repositioning his form. Throwing an arm around the back of the chair, an agile glance was tossed in the direction of his companion again before the caller was finally addressed. "Oi, if you want to speak to Ran, you're going to have to wait. She's sleeping." Silently, vexingly in his own opinion, his mind reminded him of how simple it would be to each over and brush the martial artist's shoulder and perhaps then she would stir. All it would take would be a few hushed words, and then in her lethargic state he could send her away smoothly, her mind full of doubts concerning if he had ever even existed. Fate was handing him a way out with ease, almost conspicuously--and yet he refused to claim it. Surely this wasn't because the crimson hued threads of attachment had begun to weave around him and his counterpart., right? "I don't know when she's going to be available, but you can try back in a few hours and--"

"Dare ga?"

"Huh?"

"Da-re-ga?"

He could have laughed--he _would _have laughed had he not found some unexplainable annoyance in the one he was speaking to. Though the two were complete strangers, having never met before in their lives, she disregarded formalities completely and simply addressed him as if they had known each other since childhood. Her words were littered with the same exaggerated annoyance that might accompany the words of one who was trying to teach a young child and grasping nothing more than failure. Shinichi definitely wasn't finding himself fond of her. "Who are _you_?" His brow furrowed in exasperation. "It doesn't matter who I am. I told you that Ran's asleep, and before you ask, I'm not waking her up just so that you can talk to her." Already he could hear fragments of words fighting their way through his own, doing their best to weaken his so that they could claim their prize, and so he finished as quickly as he could. "If you would just hang up and call back in a few hours, _Baaro_, then--"

But he had lost the battle. Not to the one that he would come to so 'affectionately' nickname 'Bakemono', but instead to Mouri Ran.

"Sonoko?" Before he had a chance to protest, the cell phone was snatched from his hands, and the owner's drowsy voice mingled with the comfortable silence that had nested amongst them. He turned his head to watch her, and noted how she dealt--without complication--with her supposed friend's eager cynical words. "Iie, I'm fine." She paused a moment, expelling a deep sigh, before lifting her hand to touch her forehead. The deep blue eyes that he often found his own drifting towards when he was struggling to tag her emotions had fallen closed before she finally chose to speak again. "Iie, I don't have a fever. Un, I promise, I just checked." The phone was shifted carefully as a rosy hue stole across her cheeks, claiming territory far faster than her countenance could defend it. "Uso! Iie, he's just--" Once more the eyes that he used to map her emotions, the eyes that spilled answers to him that she wouldn't dare let drip from her lips, eased open and glanced cautiously in his direction. Now he was sure of it--they were speaking of him. "Chigau yo. He's here to help me, that's all. Hai. Ja ne, Sonoko."

Then, with the press of a button, it had ended. The electronic that had previously demanded the young woman's attention, preventing her from heeding the words in her mind that echoed 'run, run,' no longer demanded anything more than the brush of her fingers against it. Without meaning to, it had provided a flimsy wall; it had temporarily prevented the onset of memories, but now the wall was broken and the martial artist was forced to turn her tentative visage to the one whose eyes had been trained on her since she'd awoken. His blue eyes continued to peer into her--and inwardly he, too, faltered. Perhaps the security of the electronic was requisite to her situation; perhaps spending time in his company, in the company of one who had lost his life years and years ago and was now literally nothing more than a shadow of what he had once been, was baneful to her life.

"G-Gomen.. Sonoko's just really protective sometimes and--"

"You should go."

His words clumsily trampled over hers, the self-assured smirk glued to his lips his only saving grace. Forcing his feet to support the weight of his body, the meitantei found himself rising to his full height, a hand extending to touch her shoulder. The cozy material was a hindrance, as it tempted him to enfold her in a more adequate embrace. "You've been sleeping all day, baaro. If the clock on your cell phone's right, it's past ten and you haven't even started cleaning." The bewilderment that clouded her features, claiming her for its own before anything could be done to slow its conquest, was almost enough to draw laughter from the meitantei's lips. Once more his depths of blue danced in all their glory; once more the sentience that had temporary been stolen from him at his time of death had been restored. Even as the hue of a flush danced across the poor young woman's cheeks, he allowed the tips of his fingers to gently skim the rosy flesh. Her mouth opened to acknowledge the touch, but once again his cocky words overlapped the beginning of hers. "And if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were blushing. You should shut your mouth now, unless you were _trying_ to go for the fish look."

"Baka!"

The insult was taken lightly; he knew that the annoyance that was littered amongst the embarrassment was feigned.

What wasn't taken lightly was how impetuously Ran had gathered her belongings as well as his doorway--and how he was now standing there with her, perplexed as sudden doleful feelings flopped about, threatening to destroy him inwardly. What distracted him from his demanding feelings was the way that his tired eyes managed to blur the star-filled heavens so that they and the martial artist blended as one, creating the effect that she was indeed the angel he'd been apprehensively awaiting to lead him on his peregrination to wherever he was supposed to be next. It was ironic, considering he'd finally found the want to stay."Tousan's going to be really mad," she spoke, a pout sweeping over her features and breaking him from his thoughts. "Well, if he's not drunk, anyway." Before she could prevent the act she had faltered, almost as if recollection of the day had abruptly returned to her. It stung. All evidence of her words disappeared into the cool evening air transiently before she continued. "If I don't go now there won't be any hope of making him dinner before he falls asleep on the couch again, but I promise I'll be back tomorrow. Bye!"

From the smile she offered him just before she turned and forced her feet to carry her in haste, he knew she wasn't lying to him.

What he didn't know was why the doleful feelings were numbing; why the stabbing pain was easing, and pure puzzlement was taking its place.

"Bye."

For the first time since he'd watched his parents blood spill before his eyes and had cried out as his own life was stolen, he felt whole again--which both frustrated subdued the poor meitantei beyond belief.


End file.
